Left Behind
by Yesm777
Summary: In a narrow escape, Adam is badly injured and left behind—then presumed dead for a night. To be clear, this is not a death fic.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's note: Heya. So I did say I had some stories cooking for _The Brave_, and to be frank, I keep jumping between four. I've finally settled on one long enough to crank out a finished chapter with a nearly finished second chapter, so I thought I'd post the first chapter to motivate me to crank out more. Hope ya like it, and remember, this is **not**__ a death fic. Much loves to you all._ _  
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**Chapter One**

If even one mission could go smoothly, Adam would be immensely grateful. But with this job, that was a nigh impossibility. They'd completed the objective—by all intents and purposes, they'd succeeded. But on their way out, they were spotted, forcing them to simply run toward exfil through the forest.

Boots pounded the terrain; enraged shouting rang out behind them. They were running for their lives, banking on their enemies' lack of night vision gear and clumsy sprinting. The team skillfully weaved through trees and brush, moving quickly and quietly. Slightly ahead of them, Adam silently signaled for them to split up, anxious to get his team as far out of harm's way as possible. If they separated, it could increase their chances and get them to the exfiltration point more safely.

As they moved away from one another, Adam purposefully stomped on a thin, fallen branch. The snap nearly had an echo. And it worked.

A couple stragglers chased after Preach and Amir, but a majority of their foes stayed on Adam's tail. As long as his team was out of danger, he could handle the repercussions.

From the corner of his eye, he thought he saw a look of worried anger on Jaz's face. He wouldn't be surprised. But she obediently carried on, melting into the darkness as she pressed on toward their escape.

Pushing harder, he picked his way through the complex clusters of vegetation, picking up his feet to avoid stray roots and shrub branches.

And then they started shooting.

Panic bit at his chest, his thoughts going straight to his team. If the guys behind were shooting blindly, there was a chance one of his teammates—one of his family—could catch a bullet.

He should've been more worried about himself.

Pain exploded from his abdomen, sharp and sudden. It didn't register at first. Even the white-hot strike to his thigh didn't quite sink in. Then it hit him. The delayed agony. And he fell.

Hard.

Rocks and pebbles dug into his flesh, stinging and bruising. But his mind was in hyperdrive.

Thinking fast, he rolled into a nearby cluster of brush. Thorns ripped at bits of bare skin; still, it was nothing compared to the excruciating throbbing of his abdomen and leg—not to mention the violent wave of adrenaline pulsing in his veins.

This was it. He just knew it. Hiding in the bushes only put off the inevitable. They'd find him here, and he'd die the soldier's death he knew would come someday. He thought about his team. They'd mourn him; he knew. But they'd have to move on. They'd have to survive and keep going.

Otherwise, this would've been for nothing.

He squeezed his eyes shut, swallowing past suppressed cries of pain. His mind flashed back to Jaz's worried scowl. At least he'd die in a flurry of action. As long as they all made it safely.

Heavy footfalls ran past him, soon fading into the dark.

Adam blinked harshly, hand scrambling to find the hole in his side. Did their pursuers miss him? Were they already gone?

Sweat dripped into his eyes as the adrenaline quickly began to wear down into nothingness.

Did they see him fall?

He closed his eyes tightly, wincing as he pressed the torn flesh in his side. It wasn't an immediately fatal wound, but he was still bleeding. Heavily.

So they hadn't seen him. They hadn't known he'd been hit. Somehow, he'd dodged what he thought was a certain death.

And now his very real plight was starting to sink in. He began to shiver against the pain and the steady dribble of his blood, left vulnerable and weak without the boost of adrenaline. He attempted to lift himself up on one elbow, finding his body was too focused on other things to manage it. Instead, he fell back to the root-tangled floor, attempting to breathe steadily as he weighed his options.

He wouldn't make it to the exfiltration point. At least, not in time. His team couldn't wait; they'd have to leave him behind.

So now, he'd just have to focus on survival until they could come back and get him.

_"Status."_

Adam licked his lips, wincing against the voice in his ear. Noah. Always checking up on them.

_"Team had to split. We're heading to exfil now."_

Preach's whisper floated through the comms, punctuated by his labored breathing. They were still running. Adam could only hope they were still safe too.

Black spots dotted his vision, and he could feel his body weakening. His hold against his side was beginning to loosen, and his brain felt foggy. His consciousness was slipping away.

And there was nothing he could do about it.

He tried to fight through it, attempting to further press his hand against his bloody side. A soft groan escaped him as he wearily pushed the night vision goggles away from his face with a quickly weakening arm.

_"Top? What's going on?" _

Jaz. But he knew the question was on all their minds.

And he would've answered.

But waves of darkness washed over him, pulling him into the tide of unconsciousness.

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The team had lost them. They could still hear the angry shouts of their pursuers, but they were distant. Off track. Getting further away.

And as the exfiltration point grew closer, the four of them converged again, eyes forward.

"Top?" Jaz tried again, listening intently to the stray noises from her comm. She looked around, hoping to see him trot up from behind to join them. But he was nowhere. Where he should've been, there were only trees, darkness, and brush.

They could hear the starting hum of chopper blades just ahead, and she knew Top's window was narrow now. If he'd gotten behind, he'd have to quickly make up the time. They could only wait so long before their pursuers heard the chopper and headed their way.

The team broke into the clearing, heading toward their escape. They looked around, searching for the same thing. The same person.

_"Where's Dalton?"_

They could all hear the notes of concern in the deputy director's stern voice. Nothing could be said about it. They all felt it too.

"No visual. If he's close, we can't see him," Amir reported, dark eyes peering fervently into the darkness as the four of them waited by the chopper.

_"We've lost GPS tracking for Dalton," _Noah muttered. Silent hesitation followed. They all knew what was coming. _"If he doesn't make it in the next ten seconds . . ."_

A pause.

"We'll have to leave him behind," McG mumbled.

And the thought hit them all at once.

He could be dead.

Or if he isn't dead, he will be if he doesn't get to exfil in time.

They'd heard shooting before. Maybe . . .

Jaz's breath came hard and fast, and a gnawing pain of realization settled into their chests.

_"Team, you have to go." _Noah sounded apologetic. Sad. His voice trembled a little, as if he was trying to keep it together.

"No, just a little longer," Jaz demanded, a hint of pleading in her voice.

_"You can't wait. You have to go."_

"Please. Please, just a little longer."

The four of them searched the trees, desperate. He had to be out there. He was Top. He always made it. He always got out alive. He had to.

_"Go now. That's an order."_

Patricia sounded as firm as ever. But there was something softer behind the command. Something sorrowful. Mourning. They could all feel it.

With trembling hands, they climbed into the chopper, settling in as it rose above the trees. They looked down over the terrain, searching. Hoping.

But they knew it was too late.

Top was gone. It was the last they'd ever see of Adam Dalton.

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No one said a word when Amir forcefully threw his pack to the floor. They were safe and sound on base. With one less.

The common area felt dark and empty already, and they all dropped their gear to the floor, not caring where it lay. Amir was left to confront his own anger as he kicked his bag. McG headed straight to the fridge to drag out a pack of beers and place it on the kitchen table. Preach and Jaz sat down, already reaching for a beer before it had touched the tabletop.

Amir kicked his pack again, pressing an angry fist against his forehead. They'd give him another minute. Then they'd force him to come sit down and drink to the memory of a good man. A great man. An outstanding commanding officer.

The three at the table stared down with empty eyes, letting the news finally sink in its teeth with full force. Even in the chopper, they hadn't allowed themselves to give in and accept it. Not until they were back on the ground and settled in a proper seat.

And the time was now.

Amir gave an angry shout, driving his foot into the bag again. And then he stilled, as if drained. Slowly, he made it to the table, taking his seat with the rest of them and wearily reaching for a bottle. A hand went to his face, covering his eyes.

Tightening her hold on her beer, Jaz's face crumpled and she turned away from the group, trying to find some privacy without shunning them altogether. McG looked to the ceiling, tears gathering in his eyes.

Some would say loss was just part of the job. But that didn't make it easier.

That didn't make _this _easier.

"Top . . . Adam was an admirable man," Preach said quietly, his low voice rumbling through the dim room. "He'd always put the mission first. But he'd also find a way to put us first. Always willing to put his life on the line. For us. For others. And tonight . . . tonight . . ." His voice shook a little. "He put his life on the line and ended up making the ultimate sacrifice."

A small whimper escaped Jaz as she closed her eyes, her brows scrunched up together.

Preach held up his bottle, and the others followed. Jaz wiped furiously at her eyes, determined to be strong as she joined in. There was a glisten of tears in their eyes and an air of weary defeat. There was nothing they could do. They knew the odds. And the odds were that Adam was gone.

Gone.

Forever.

They held up their bottles in a silent toast, and they let the quiet linger. They drank in peace. Tears silently fell from their eyes, with the exception of Preach, who's tears sat reverently on the edge of his eyelids.

Jaz looked down at a pullover on the floor. Adam's. It had fallen in the flurry of mission prep, and he just hadn't had time to pick it up and put it away. And now it was mocking them, reminding them of a man that gave everything his all.

A man who cared even when it was more convenient not to.

He should've been on the chopper with them. He should've been there.

They shouldn't have left him behind.

She gently pressed her thumb and index finger into her eyes, hoping to stem the fresh wave of emotion. As much as they would've liked to stay—to find him—they couldn't have. To risk the many for the few was not the DIA's way, even if the few was Adam Dalton.

And truly, they couldn't fault Patricia or Noah for making the call. It was procedure, and it was there for a reason, as heart-shattering as it was.

Looking back, it was easy to be critical. They shouldn't have split. They should've kept eyes on each other. They should've waited. They should've hid.

They've should've done _anything _other than what they did.

But that didn't change things, and it never would. Out in the field, you do your best to make the right choices, and sometimes, you just can't know which choice is the right one.

Jaz stared at the lip of her beer bottle, eyes unseeing. There was a time when Adam had been staring this very same moment in the face—her abduction. He almost had to leave her behind. He almost had to face these same _what ifs _and regrets. These moments of angry minutes of defeat. Of knowing you had to somehow accept such an awful outcome.

This wasn't _almost_. This was real.

She absently rubbed at her jaw, letting her thoughts run wild.

"Hell, I wish I knew what to say," McG huffed, running his fingers through dark locks. "All I can think is _Top would know what to say_."

Jaz smirked, despite herself. "He would. Always did."

"I mean, when Preach was in a coma . . ." McG began, gesturing to the older man. Preach looked up, those damn tears still clinging to his eyes. ". . . it just felt hopeless. And Top was nowhere to be seen. Then he was just there and it . . . just felt better. Like everything would be fine."

Amir let out a sigh through his nose, slouching dejectedly in his seat. "It's hard to think that this is permanent."

"It feels wrong," Jaz agreed, taking another swig of her beer.

The quiet returned, dusting over them as they fell into a shallow contemplation. It was a still night. Dark. Empty.

"Top wouldn't want us to sulk," Preach offered hesitantly. "He'd want us to move on. To welcome growth and change in our lives."

McG smiled humorlessly. "And tomorrow, we get right on that. But I don't think I'm quite done feeling miserable."

Amir raised his bottle, eyes dark yet soft. "Hear, hear."

The older man leaned back, eyes to the ceiling. "Can't say I am either."

And so they mourned in intermittent moments of silence, holding on to the cold, bitter evening and dreading the warmth of the sun.

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The bag of pork rinds lay forgotten, abandoned and steadily growing stale. A mug of coffee sat beside them, cold and dark.

They don't exactly teach you how to deal with death on the job. And somehow, being miles and miles away when it happened made it just a little harder.

Noah's eyes had settled on a little spot of empty desk, unfocused and dull. None of them had seen it coming. All of a sudden, Adam's dot on the screen had blinked out of sight, and his body cam went dark.

In an instant, every visual they had on Adam Dalton had disappeared.

There was a groan, presumably from Adam, and then nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing but the rustle of leaves in the wind.

After listening to that for nearly a half an hour, Noah'd made the call to turn off the audio. To spare the room the mental image of Adam just . . . just lying there. Left behind. Abandoned.

He turned on alerts in case the comm picked up anything, but he wasn't hopeful. Somewhere in that wilderness was Adam. Or more like the shell he left behind.

It was never easy to lose a teammate. No, a friend. Adam was a friend.

Hell. Noah had lost a friend.

He messily pushed a hand under his glasses as the tears hit him. A sob stuck in his throat, his stomach turning at the very thought of what was lost.

He'd lost a friend today. A friend.

A small hand settled on his shoulder. He didn't bother looking; he knew who it was. Instead, he focused on composing himself. On finding some kind of peace.

Once he'd somewhat pieced himself back together, he straightened his glasses, sat up taller.

"There was nothing you could've done."

The deputy director. Always the one with the strength and the reassurance.

He looked up at her. "But how can you know that?"

She smiled comfortingly as she pulled up a spare chair, settling in gracefully. "Let's just say, I have a lot of experience."

Noah looked down, nodding softly. A feeling of hopelessness settled into his chest, weighing heavily on his heart. "What now?"

Patricia breathed in deeply settling her hands on her knees. "You honor their memory. You live on, but you don't forget them. And you do them proud."

Do them proud. Do Adam proud. Noah thought about what that meant. What that would mean to Adam.

And the first idea that came to mind was to take care of himself.

With every mission and every task, Adam put his team first. He encouraged them to be healthy. To be happy.

Noah looked down at the pork rinds. He didn't feel like eating. But he could almost hear Adam, like he'd heard Adam so many times before asking his own exhausted team: "Have you eaten?"

Or even: "Get some rest."

The tiny nudges for self-care.

Noah lifted his gaze to Patricia. She smiled sadly.

"Have you eaten?"

He couldn't blink back the tears fast enough.


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's Note: Wowie zowie! So much love and so many reviews! Thanks, all; it means the world to me and gives me such wonderful, warm feels. Welp, here's the second chapter. I hope ya'll like it. And as a reminder, I am not a medical professional, so I'm doing my best in these fics with what knowledge I have and can find. Anyway, enjoy! :)_

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**Chapter Two**

The sun reflected off dewy leaves, sending warm rays over the greenery. Morning birds chirped cheerfully, flitting from branch to branch as they chattered with their neighbors. It was quiet. Peaceful. Without disruption.

Except for an unmoving boot peeking out of the brush.

A heavy dew drop slid down a glossy leaf, catching onto the point and stretching as it desperately held onto the foliage.

Then it fell. Onto warm skin.

Adam stirred, clumsily emerging from the thick cotton of unconsciousness. His limbs felt weak. His whole body felt heavy and restrained, as if strapped to the floor.

Grasping onto a whisper of wakefulness, he fought his way into the daylight, meeting pain and bodily exhaustion. He groaned, struggling against the binds of oblivion.

His eyes peeled open to slits, immediately assaulted by sunlight. Though dimmed by the spotty cover of leaves, the light was almost blinding, and he felt slow and sluggish.

His mouth was dry, and he painfully swallowed against his sandpaper throat.

Shit, he felt like he'd been run over. A few times. Honestly, he wasn't even sure he was alive. Closing his eyes, he mustered what little strength he had before lifting his head and reopening his eyes to take in his situation.

And he was met with red.

Blood was smeared across and soaked into his clothes, and out of alarm, he hurriedly pressed a weak hand against his abdomen, awaking a fresh spike of pain. He let out a small cry, eyes drifting to his bloodied thigh.

He'd forgotten. He was shot. He'd gone down, and his team left without him.

As they should have.

Blinking harshly as he inhaled greedily, he moved his free hand to one of his cargo pouches, struggling to undo the snap with a sudden sense of urgency. Even in a moment like this, his training kicked in, telling him exactly what to do. Somehow, through his foggy thoughts, he remembered he had bandaging in case he was ever separated from McG. Like now. He wasn't exactly sure if he had the strength to apply it, but he had to try. He wasn't the type to lie down and give up.

Finally managing to undo the snap, he tried reaching for the packs of bandaging, straining against the binds of exhaustion and jagged stabs of pain. He could barely reach. Frustrated, he stretched further, growling in pain when his body protested the movement.

"Damn."

He frowned, both out of confusion and heavy discomfort. His voice sounded like rough parchment rubbing against itself.

"Command?"

It was hoarse and quiet, but it was something. He half-wished he could go back to sleep. Or at least not care for a moment. But he couldn't. He had to rely on himself for survival, even now, when his head throbbed and his strength was a small fraction of its normal capacity.

He tried reaching for the gauze again, and he could feel his fingers brush against the paper packaging. Progress.

Adam took a deep breath, feeling woozy and tired. Was he still alive? It was hard to tell. "Command?"

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Noah stared down at his coffee. It was a new shift. A new day. But that didn't erase what had happened yesterday.

Patricia had taken him and Hannah out for a decent meal, and the three had gone home to get some shuteye. And he'd tried. He'd really tried. But sleep wouldn't come, and misery just seemed to settle into his bones. Just thinking about how quiet Adam's team had been on the way back to base was difficult, and then all that was on Noah's mind was how much Adam's team had to be suffering.

Now he was here, eyes focused on the mug of black coffee. He didn't want to drink—or eat—anything, but he was awfully tired. And he owed it to Patricia—to Dalton's team—to be alert on the job.

With a sigh, he picked up the mug and took a slow sip, forcing his eyes to his computer screen. His brow furrowed at the sight of a new window, his brain sluggishly registering what it was.

Noah choked on his coffee.

Nearly slamming down his mug, he hastily clicked on the window, pulling up a background application as he shoved his headset over his ears.

_"—ommand?"_

His heart was in his throat, and he vaguely wondered if he'd somehow passed out at his desk and fallen into a dream.

There was a dry cough and a shaky inhale. _"Any . . . anyone?"_

"Dalton?"

The name fell out of Noah's mouth in a near whisper, as if afraid it was all a lie.

_"Noah?"_

Within milliseconds, Noah felt like he was both frighteningly awake and on the verge of passing out. Emotions crashed at the front of his mind, each of them pawing for purchase. His eyes watered, his throat constricted, his hands trembled.

"Dalton, is that really you?"

Another cough and a deep breath. _"Last I . . ."_ A heavy breath. _"Last I checked."_

"Oh my G—how—I—" Noah scrambled for words, turning in his chair just in time for Patricia's somber entrance into the room. "Director. Director, he's alive."

She stopped, narrowing her eyes as she dropped a stack of papers on her desk. "What?"

"Dalton—Adam—He's-he's alive." The room went quiet, listening. Anxious.

Without missing a beat, she swiftly walked to his desk, pulling off Noah's headset to put it on herself.

"Dalton?"

_"Still here."_

She frowned. He sounded tired; his voice was painfully hoarse. Her heart sank—something was wrong. "Are you injured?"

There was a pause. The pause that always came before troubling news.

_"Been hit."_

"Where?" It was more of a demand than a question.

_"Abdomen. Thigh."_

His answers were short. Clipped. She wondered how bad it was. Most of the time, he was excellent at downplaying his injuries. She took a moment to collect her thoughts, taking a slow, deep breath.

"What happened?"

She knew she probably should've been more specific, but Dalton knew what it meant. He always seemed to know.

_"Ordered the team to split," _he mumbled, his voice gravelly. Breathy. _"Got hit shortly after. Hid in the brush. Wasn't found. Guess I lost consciousness."_

"How bad is it?"

Another dreadful pause.

_"Not great."_

"I'm going to need more than that, Dalton. We lost visual and GPS tracking; we're in the dark."

There was a soft cough on the other end, weak and tired.

_"Wasn't able to apply pressure last night. Lost a decent amount of blood. Can't stand up. Don't think I have the energy. Attempting to apply bandaging, but not being very successful." _There was some shuffling and pained panting for a moment, only adding to Patricia's concern. _"Looks like the body cam was damaged when I fell. Same with the GPS tracker."_

She swallowed her worry, focusing harder to ignore her emotions.

"You don't think you can get up at all?"

_"Have yet to sit up, so we'll see."_

Patricia sighed, pressing fingers to the bridge of her nose. Since it was a short op, Adam didn't have any supplies for extended survival. No food.

No water.

Probably part of why his voice sounded so bad.

"This goes without saying, but we're sending your team out ASAP to pick you up. Without GPS tracking, it may take time to find you."  
_"I'm not going anywhere."_

Patricia pulled the headset off, handing it to Noah. "Put his audio up on the main system. I want to hear him at all times."

Noah took the headset and quickly did as he was asked. In no time, Adam's pained huffing was sounding over the main speaker, alerting the rest of the room to the newest development. The stunned silence lingered, a few soft whispers sweeping through the room.

"So what's happening?" Hannah asked eagerly, eyes flitting between Noah and Patricia. Noah simply looked at the deputy director, also curious to know what Adam told her.

Patricia didn't stop to look at them, instead going to her desk to retrieve her ear piece. "Dalton's been shot in the abdomen and thigh. Thinks he lost consciousness last night before he could apply any first aid. Camera and GPS tracker are damaged, and he doesn't have the strength to move." She turned to face the larger screen in the room, already putting her ear piece in. "So let's give his team a call to give them the news."

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Empty bottles sat on the table, ignored and already gathering desert dust. No one had slept. They couldn't have if they tried. Instead, they'd sat at the table together, conservatively sipping at beer and sharing memories in between sobering moments of silence. There had been tears, some laughter, and the odd instant of frustration.

But even after all that, it didn't change a thing. Adam was still gone.

And today, they'd have to get used to that.

Amir let out a long sigh, looking at his comrades with bloodshot eyes. "I'll make some breakfast."

Jaz shook her head, arms folded as she stared down at the table. "Not hungry."

"Me neither," Amir admitted. "But we've got to eat. We still have to take care of ourselves."

"Got a point," McG muttered.

Amir moved to get up, fighting the urge to sit back down. He didn't much feel like moving. The rest of the team probably felt the same.

As he was rummaging through their food supplies, a familiar beeping rang through the room. He froze, looking over his shoulder at Adam's laptop. They all stared at it, the four of them still and unmoving.

Then Preach moved to answer it, slow and steady as he trudged over. With a click, he took the call, expecting to see a professionally mournful deputy director.

But she looked as driven as ever.

"Director," Preach greeted, suddenly more tired seeing the resolve in her face.

_"Good morning, team. I have . . ."_ She stopped, as if trying to decide how to put it. _"News."_

Jaz released a harsh huff. Probably wasn't anything good. "Great."

_"Dalton's alive."_

Everyone looked up at that, eyes wide and suddenly alert. There was a heavy pause as they digested the statement.

Elation bloomed in their chests, but it was quickly snuffed out by awful possibilities. Alive didn't always mean well. And in an instant, they were fighting with uncertain joy and wisps of dread. In a way, they didn't know how to feel, and everything just felt weightless. Up in the air.

But Adam was alive. They could work with that, right?

Right?

They tried to grapple on to some kind of feeling. Hell, there was just so much. Should they laugh? Cry?

Was he really alive?

And then it came crashing down. Hard. There was panic and restlessness and fear, unsaid and bottled up in their cores. They had to see him. They had to have eyes on him to really know if he was okay.

They had to take action or do _something_.

"Was he captured?" Jaz asked, leaning toward the laptop from her seat.

_"No. He managed to hide, but his GPS tracker and body cam were damaged, and he lost consciousness, so we'd lost all contact."_

"Lost consciousness?" Preach prompted. They needed to be _there_. With Adam. But there was no way they'd be allowed to take on the rescue mission. No way Patricia would let them do it.

_"He was hit while making his way to exfil."_

McG stood abruptly, though knowing there was nothing he could do in the moment. The rest were frozen, glued to their spots in fear.

_"Says he's lost a lot of blood and doesn't have the strength to move much. So I don't think I need to tell you that time is of the essence."_

Jaz frowned, her heart beating hopefully against her ribcage. "You're sending _us_ out?"

_"Who else would I send?"_

Without sparing another second, McG, Jaz, and Amir rushed to get their gear together, leaving Preach on the call. Their team leader need them, and they wouldn't waste a minute getting to him.

"Give us a few, and we'll be ready," Preach reported, anxiously watching his younger teammates scrambling to get things together—even Preach's things.

_"Before you do anything, I recommend putting in your comms. Maybe give your CO a hello."_

Preach didn't miss the small smirk on Patricia's face, betraying her feelings. She quickly ended the call, taking that miniscule smile with her.

"Director says to put our comms in first," Preach instructed, trying to keep it cool as he walked to his own pack. But it didn't stop his heart from hammering against his ribcage. Didn't stop his mind from wondering if this was all real.

And every limb was abuzz with a relieved energy he just couldn't explain.

Immediately, the other three dug into their gear to pull out their comms, cramming them into their ears.

Adam was alive.

Alive.

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It had taken forever to get the bandaging out of the cargo pouch. He'd had to reach for it in rounds, feeling completely drained. Although, that was understandable. Adam wondered how much blood he'd lost by now. After some time, he'd managed to get some gauze pads and rolls out. Now, he just had to find the energy to actually dress his wounds.

Taking a few deep breaths, he pushed himself off the ground and through the brush leaves and branches, growling painfully as he forced himself to sit up. His stomach was on fire, and he could feel his muscles trembling under the strain. He'd pushed off his night vision gear some time ago, abandoning them on the forest floor. They only seemed to add to his headache.

_"Adam? You okay?"_

"Fifth time, Noah. I'm fine," he bit out, though every word shook. To keep himself upright, he clung to the pants fabric of his good leg, but he wasn't sure how long that would work.

_"I know, I'm sorry, it's just . . ." _Noah stopped, unsure of how to say it.

_"We thought you were dead," _Hannah finished, her voice firm but reverent.

Adam stopped. His head was already spinning from sitting up. Hannah's statement only turned it faster.

He hadn't really thought about that. Yeah, he knew his team had left him behind. It was expected. If he didn't make it to exfil, they were to leave. They had to leave.

But really, if he didn't make it to exfil, what were they supposed to think?

Shit, what were they supposed to think?

He could feel a rising panic in his bones, thinking about how his team had to leave him behind. How they thought he was _dead._

For _a whole night_, they thought he was _dead_.

_"Adam? You oka—?"_

"I'm fine," he snapped. "Do they know?"

Thinking he was dead . . . that was a pain unlike anything else. He knew that.

_"Deputy Director Campbell is on a call with them right now," _Hannah provided, her voice strong but low.

Just now? What time was it? He struggled to look at his watch, barely able to lift his arm as he squinted against the daylight. Around nine o' clock. It'd been late when they'd finished their objective, but that didn't make this any better. He should've woken sooner. If only to give his team a couple more hours of relief.

With a grunt, he tore open a pack of gauze, pressing it to his bloody leg. Drawing whatever strength he could, he worked to thread the rolled gauze between the floor and his limb, trying to lift his leg as much as he could. It wasn't much. And the agony was overwhelming.

But he forced himself to wheeze through it.

_"To be frank, you don't sound too good."_

Adam squeezed his eyes shut, attempting to stem the sting of his wounds and frustration. But it wouldn't be fair to snap at Noah. He was just worried. Adam had been in those shoes before; he understood. "To be honest, I don't feel too good," he mumbled, panting as he carefully wrapped the roll of gauze around his leg. Maybe he couldn't apply pressure himself, but this was better than nothing. With some trouble, he finished binding his wound, fighting to still his shaking hands.

_"Deputy Director just got off the call," _Hannah reported softly. He appreciated the update.

"How did they take it?" he huffed, pulling up his shirt to unveil the bloody mess underneath. It looked bad. And he was feeling dizzy.

_"I'd say very well," _Patricia answered, sounding pleased. _"They'll be ready to go in a couple minutes, I'd say. Your team moves pretty fast, Dalton."_

"Have to on this job," he muttered, sucking in air through his teeth as he pressed another couple of gauze pads to his crimson-smeared side. Staying upright was becoming immensely difficult, and it took a lot of focus to wrap rolled gauze around his middle.

But somehow, he managed.

And just as he finished up the bandaging, a cacophony of familiar voices rang over the comm, loud and eager.

_"Top?"_

_ "Top? You good?"_

_ "Adam? You there?"_

_ "The deputy director said you were shot?"_

Adam clenched his teeth, swallowing the whimper in his throat at a particularly painful ache. Bandaging his injuries had taken a lot out of him. His vision spun, and his body felt feeble. Overcome with lightheadedness, he collapsed back to the forest floor. Branches and thorns scraped against his bare skin as he fell, adding more scratches to the collection.

He desperately blinked away the spots in his vision, breathing heavily to try and regain control.

_"Top?"_

McG. The others were quiet, probably sensing something was wrong.

"'M fine," he huffed. "Jus' . . . jus' putting some bandages on." He continued to breathe heavily, greedily sucking in air.

_"We're on our way," _McG replied. _"We're going to find you. You'll be back at base in no time."_

He blinked, staring up at the sky, his breathing slowing. "I'm fine. I'm really fine."

Jaz scoffed. _"That's not what we heard. Heard you were hit."_

"I'm fine. I'm alive. I'm fine," he replied, lifting a shaky hand to press against his side. He wanted to reassure them. Tell them they didn't have to fake it for him. He knew it was tearing them apart to not actually be there with him. To make sure he was really alive. To see he was going to survive this.

But was he really going to survive this?

He blinked slowly, his hand barely pressing against his abdominal wound. He didn't know if the bandaging was enough. There was no way he was going to walk out of here on his own. And right now, it was hard to feel the pain through the dizziness and overwhelming wave of disorientation.

No, he had to live. He couldn't let his team go through this for a second time.

He coughed. His throat was so dry. He was so thirsty.

_"Come on, Top. Tell us what's really going on with you,"_ Preach encouraged, his low voice almost soothing.

Adam licked his lips, blinking rapidly to try and wake himself up. "Not sure I'm doing so hot," he admitted, hand feebly pressing at his side. It stung, but not as much as it should. Maybe he was just used to it. Or overly tired.

_"Where were you shot?" _McG asked, his normally casual voice serious and almost stern.

"Leg. Abdomen." He frowned. Hadn't he said this before? To someone?

_"He sounds bad."_

Was Jaz talking about him? He could hear the unmistakable whirr of a plane starting up in the background—they wouldn't be here for a while. He wasn't sure he could stay awake all that time, but he had to try. Breathing seemed remarkably difficult. No matter how much he inhaled, he just couldn't seem to get enough oxygen.

At least he'd managed the bandaging. It could slow the bleeding.

_"We'll be there, Top. You just have to hang on until we are," _Jaz urged. He could hear the desperation in her voice. Knew it was out of a fear of losing him again.

_"Dalton, do you know where you are?"_

Patricia again. He almost forgot DC was there too.

"Can't be sure. Prob'ly two minutes out fr'm exfil. If I were runnin'." His words were starting to bleed together, drowning between breaths.

_"You mentioned you hid in some brush. Are you still hidden?"_

"Yeah."

_"Good. Stay there for now. We may need you to move later so the team can spot you."_

He huffed. Wished it was easier to breathe. "Got it."

McG cut in, the steady hum of a plane behind him. _"Did you manage to bandage both wounds?"_

"Yeah," Adam huffed, staring up at the sky. He could only see bits of blue through the foliage, but it seemed like a beautiful day. He could imagine playing a friendly game of soccer with the local kids.

Then again, that sounded entirely too exhausting.

He shifted a little, wincing against the sparks of pain. His back was starting to hurt, resting uncomfortably on the network of roots beneath him.

A couple of soft coughs escaped him, reminding him just how dry his throat was.

But mostly, he was just tired. So tired.

His eyes drifted closed, the soft scrapes of the leaves above him lulling him into unconsciousness. An urgent voice buzzed in his ear, but it sounded so distant.

And just like that, he fell back into the darkness.


	3. Chapter 3

_Author's Note: Thanks for your patience, e'erybody. Life got crazy for a bit, so again, thanks for your patience. I hope it was worth the wait. :)_

* * *

**Chapter Three**

"Top? Top, you there?" McG questioned franticly. "Shit. Top?"

The rest of the team stared at him, hoping he'd say it was normal. That there was nothing to be worried about. But he didn't.

He looked panicked.

"McG?" Jaz pressed, wondering what to think.

The medic shook his head, clenching his jaw. "If he's not talking, I don't know if he's okay, if he's passed out, or . . . or if he's—"

"Don't say it," Amir said quickly. Firmly.

No one said a word for several minutes, hoping to ignore the awful possibility.

They couldn't get him back only to lose him again.

"Can't this plane go any faster?" Jaz sighed, leaning forward with a frown as she tried snuffing out the angry fear in her chest.

"I think they're aware of the urgency," Amir answered, breathing deeply. She looked at him. She could see the frustration in the lines of his face, the forced patience in his guise. He wasn't the only one. Waiting was hard, and listening to the silence on the other end of their comm line was harder.

McG moved anxiously in his seat, looking out the window. "Top?" he tried again. "Top? You read me?"

Across the plane, Jaz bit at her thumb nail, watching the medic carefully. She'd told Adam to hold on, and in all the time she'd known him, he'd never let her down. So he was going to be fine, right? He'd hold on for them.

He had to.

He just had to.

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Patricia strode back into the command center with purpose, trying to tamp down the worry behind her well-practiced mask of professionalism and control. She had to lead. People looked to her for guidance. For strength. But that didn't mean that, underneath the intimidation and determination, she wasn't terrified of what could happen.

It didn't mean she didn't care. About Adam.

Her mind drifted back to her visit to the prison, what Adam had said to her afterward in that desert. About her son.

_"He was a good man. A good soldier."_

Adam didn't realize the same words applied to him—in the present. It shouldn't be his memorial too.

Her eyes stung, and she blinked the pain away before anyone could see.

"Anything?" she asked, tone strong and commanding.

Noah turned to look at her, his hand in a bag of pork rinds. "No, nothing yet." His words were charged with emotion: fear, hope, concern. And yet, Noah managed to push them behind his own firm brand of professionalism. Not quite as strong as Patricia's, but impressive all the same.

And really, hope wasn't lost yet.

Noah put the bag of rinds down. "The team has nearly landed. Once they get in the chopper, it'll be another thirty minutes."

The deputy director sighed, turning away from Noah and Hannah. Thirty minutes seemed like an eternity. She wouldn't say she'd known Adam for a long time, but this job . . . this job built lifelong bonds in a matter of hours. Of days. She trusted him to get the objective done. He trusted her to keep him out of unnecessary danger.

And she took that job seriously.

_"Top? You there? Come on, Top."_

Patricia's heart ached at the sound of McG's voice. Adam's team was used to fearing the worst, even when they wanted to hope for the best. And she knew exactly what was going through their heads. Because she was the same.

She turned back to her team, seating herself at her desk. "Well, there's nothing we can do now. We'll just have to wait."

Easier said than done.

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"—_Top. You better not be ignoring me, you stubborn bastard."_

Adam frowned, catching onto the edge of groggy consciousness. He moved a little, pulling a grunt from his throat, though he wasn't entirely sure which way was up or down. He tried to sort his thoughts, struggling to grapple onto anything useful. Where was he? When had he fallen asleep?

Why wasn't he with his team?

_ "Top?"_

He let his thoughts swirl around for a minute, still attempting to stitch them together.

And then it hit him.

The mission. The gunshots. The bloody holes in his body.

His team was coming to get him. And he must've passed out.

Adam shifted uncomfortably on the root-weaved ground, gasping when a fresh wave of pain shot through his body.

_"Top? You there?"_

"Yeah." He was confused. McG sounded panicked, but he hadn't been out that long, right? Probably only a couple minutes. "Jus' restin' my eyes."

_"An hour is not 'just resting my eyes,'" _McG scolded, sounding both joyfully relieved and woefully worn out. _"You scared the shit out of us."_

An hour? His brow furrowed. Then why did he feel more exhausted than when he'd passed out?

"S'rry." Adam's eyes fluttered as he stared up at the blue sky again. "'M jus' really tired."

_"We know, Top. Just gotta stay awake a little longer, okay?"_

_ "You have to see McG's ugly mug before you can sleep again," _Jaz piped in, acting casual. But even half-buried under a layer of fog, Adam knew just how anxious she must've been. He just knew. He'd seen it before.

Still, Adam let out a soft snort of laughter anyway. To tell her everything was fine. That he was fine.

_"Ha ha. Very funny," _McG countered.

_"We're almost there, Adam. Fifteen minutes out," _said Preach, a small smile in his voice. Adam knew that tone. The strong tone of relief.

Adam just had to keep it together for fifteen more minutes. He could do that. Possibly.

_"Dalton, if you can, you need to move out of the brush so your team can find you," _Hannah instructed quietly. _"Just . . . be careful."_

It took a minute for her request to sink in. If possible, his mind was even hazier than before, and even the simplest words seemed difficult to understand. Her words finally registered, and Adam could feel the slightest tremble in his limbs at the prospect. Moving even an inch right now was an amazing feat, and staying still was the only way to calm his spinning vision and keep his pain at bay. On top of that, breathing was a lot more taxing than usual, and even a little exertion would steal what little oxygen he could manage.

But he had to do it. For his team. He'd do it for his team.

This was already so hard on them, and he wasn't going to make it harder. So moving it was.

"I'll do what I can," he croaked, feeling incredibly frail. It was an odd feeling. He was so used to being strong and capable, even in tough situations. But he'd lost control, and he could only do his best.

_"Don't overdo it, Top," _McG urged softly.

Adam didn't say anything, instead focusing on pulling all his remaining strength together for one last task. It wasn't time to rest. He took a few deep breaths in preparation, eyes to the blue above.

Drawing on nearly empty reserves, he forced himself with a groan to his uninjured side. More weight pressed on his wounded leg, and he whimpered against the ratcheting pain. It made it harder to focus, and his head was spinning again. Finding a renewed determination, he slowly crawled on his side, relying on an elbow and the toes of his injured leg. His thigh ground against the forest floor with every inch, clawing new agony out of his wound. He couldn't fight back the harsh moans of pain as he moved, almost relying on the vocal release to stay focused and sane.

It felt like the hurt and the weariness was pressing on him from all sides, and his lungs ached as he struggled more and more to pull in enough oxygen.

He tried panting through the agony and exhaustion, not wanting to let his team down. Through the haze and hurt, he dragged himself out of the bushes, continuing to make small sounds of pain as he went. He was wheezing now, and black spots assaulted his vision. Every limb was shaking with the effort, and for a moment, he wasn't sure he was going to live after this.

It felt as if he was breaking through the bottom of the barrel and drawing from reserves he didn't even have. His elbow dug into the earth, bravely pulling all his bodyweight toward it. Adam felt strangely detached from his quickly weakening muscles, but the pain was still there.

Even so, he wasn't going to let them down. He had to do this.

For them.

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The team listened with their hearts in their throats. The rough wheezing on the other end was already hard to listen to, and the punctuations of pained grunts and whimpers made it even worse. They could easily imagine him weakly pulling himself into the open terrain, overworking himself in the process.

They hated it.

But they were down to only a few minutes, then they'd be there. To help. To bring him to safety.

"Remember what McG said, Top. Don't over do it," Jaz reiterated, not sure she could listen to Adam's struggle much longer. The wheezes came faster and more desperate, and she fearfully wondered how much more he could take.

There was a slight shuffle over the comms, and it sounded as though Adam had stopped. But that didn't give them any peace. He was still panting like he'd just run a marathon.

McG looked uneasy, eyes trailing over the trees beneath them. "Just breathe. You've done enough. Just breathe. We'll find you."

_"Soun's . . . Soun's good,"_ Adam huffed, gasping for air. The team looked at each other, all four pairs of eyes ablaze with determination. They were going to find him. It was the only thing that mattered now.

They weren't going to leave their team leader out there. Alone.

Not any longer.

Before the chopper had even touched the ground, they were jumping out and on the move. According to Hannah and Noah, the area was clear, so they could keep their focus on the only thing that mattered: Adam.

The four of them trotted out into the trees, backtracking their steps from the night before as they guessed where Adam might've fallen.

"Top?" Amir called, dark eyes fervently scanning the terrain. The other three joined in, calling for Adam as they moved along. They were so close, and yet they still felt impossibly far from him. Other than soft chirps from native birds, it was relatively quiet. There weren't any visible signs of where Adam could be, and every passing minute brought more anxiety and frustration.

He was out here somewhere, short of blood and fighting for air. For his life.

Adam was depending on them, and every second mattered.

After a couple minutes, they were desperate, sharp eyes fervently scanning the landscape.

What if they didn't find him in time?

The four of them carefully but quickly moved over the terrain, their blood pumping in uneasy fear. Suddenly, Preach stopped, holding up his hand to silence the team. They paused, slowing their breathing as they listened intently. At first there was nothing. And then it was there.

Raspy panting from nearby. Outside of the comm line.

Adam.

They'd found him.

McG rushed forward first, heading toward the noise. "Shit." He dropped out of sight, the team quickly following behind to catch up.

And despite everything, they still weren't prepared for what they saw.

McG was kneeled next to their CO, hands anxiously checking Adam's injuries. Adam's eyes were closed as he panted wearily. His skin had taken on an almost gray pallor, the skin around his eyes dark and sickly. There were smears of crimson everywhere. On his shirt, his pants, a cargo pouch . . . some even got on his face, in his hair. One hand was bloodier than the other, some of the red dried and crusted, reminding them just how long he'd been left in these woods.

And the very thought made them feel sick.

He'd been there, alone, bleeding. With no help.

Amir looked at Adam's fingers. At how they trembled feebly, like a plea for rest. Then all he could think about was how difficult Adam's trek out of the brush must've been. How he probably pushed his body past its limits just to make himself more visible.

When it had been sound that led them to him.

"How is he?" asked Jaz, her hands clenched into fists. Her stomach ached as she stared at Adam's nearly colorless face. She heard quiet cursing on her comm, possibly from Hannah. She didn't know. Didn't care right now. She realized DC was seeing Adam for the first time too, but that didn't matter.

She was too focused on how he was alive.

But would he survive?

"Not good," McG muttered urgently. "He needs blood." He looked to Jaz. "And you're a match." She nodded. They'd known this from the beginning. McG always kept tabs on things like this.

"Can we get him to the chopper first?" Amir inquired, worried eyes sweeping over the team leader and the surrounding trees.

McG sighed. "If the area's still clear, I wouldn't wait." He pulled at blood-spotted gauze on Adam's leg, checking underneath the white. Adam gasped with the movement, gritting his teeth as McG pushed a little at the surrounding flesh to get a better look. He pushed a little harder, and then Adam's breathing took a turn, slowing immediately. The pinches in his face fell away. The trembling in his hands faded.

"Top?" coaxed McG, one hand softly squeezing the man's arm. A look of alarm passed over his face as he swiftly pressed fingers to Adam's neck. The medic let out a weary breath of relief. "Looks like he passed out."

_"Area's still clear_," Hannah reported, her voice steady and sure.

"Well let's get this blood transfusion started," Jaz coaxed, already working to remove her jacket. "Never seen a person so colorless." She wanted to look away but couldn't bring herself to. To her, it felt like righteous punishment for leaving him behind to suffer.

Even as she looked on, Jaz tried not to focus on just how lifeless Adam looked. Then her eyes caught on his bloodied hand. The slack, pale fingers caked in red.

If she'd had breakfast, she would've lost it.

Startled, she looked away, eyes meeting Amir's. She briefly wondered if hers looked that vulnerable.

They broke eye contact without saying a word.

This felt wrong. Adam was the one who watched over _them_. He was the support. He was the one that made sure no one was left behind, whether it was one of the team or an American doctor taken hostage.

He was the one that volunteered as a blood donor for an injured agent on the run.

This time, he was the one that needed help, and he'd been left behind. No one was there to watch over _him._

It felt wrong. Absolutely wrong.

And the way McG moved with precision and urgency spoke volumes. Jaz wondered just how close they were to losing Adam completely. For the last time.

McG gently moved Adam to his back, the team leader like a ragdoll in the medic's hands. It was unnerving to see. In the bright sunlight, small scratches stood out starkly against the pale skin of Adam's face, making him look even paler.

As McG went to work preparing the blood transfusion, Amir found himself focusing on the tiny, red scratches marring Adam's face. They were so small, and yet they held a lot of weight. The team hadn't even had his back for something as trivial as a shallow scratch.

They weren't there.

And they should've been.

Amir dropped his gaze to the ground before looking up at the rest. McG was expertly inserting a needle into Jaz's arm, moving with a focused exactness. Jaz said nothing, simple holding her arm out as she waited.

None of them could believe this was happening. Only ten hours ago, they'd thought Adam was dead. Now they had him—alive—but he was teetering on the edge between life and death.

They couldn't decide if this was lucky or incredibly cruel.

McG inserted a needle into Adam's arm, and then the blood was flowing.

Jaz looked down at Adam, careful not to move her arm. All she had to give was some blood and maybe a small prayer. But it didn't feel like enough. She knew why all this had happened. He'd drawn their pursuers to himself, to keep the rest of the team out of danger. She'd seen it. She knew exactly what he was doing. And it'd worked. But not without sacrifice.

And that hurt the most. Knowing this was all their fault. _Her_ fault. Because he did it for them.

Even if he made it out of this and recovered completely, she knew he'd do it again. And again. And again.

With every risk, he'd volunteer to take it. For Preach's children. For Amir's family. For McG's mom. Adam would take it every time to keep every one of them alive for another mission. For another day.

And how could Jaz let him after all this?

He looked so frail. So unlike himself. Gray and worn down, he looked like he could be broken by a light breeze. It pained her to think about how much it had taken him to crawl out of his hiding place. Normally, Adam could manage feats a hundred times more difficult.

But normally, he wouldn't be left behind to steadily bleed out in unfamiliar woods.

She wasn't sure what was worse: believing he was dead or knowing they'd abandoned him to nearly die.

When she was captured, Adam didn't abandon her. Even when he was told to, he was constantly thinking of a way around it. And he found it. He went back for her. They all went back for her.

She should've done the same for him. Should've found a way to go back for him, even when protocol instructed her to leave him behind.

Jaz felt ashamed.

She watched McG carefully rebandage Adam's injuries, his movements gentle and reverent. Every patient was important to McG, but not every patient was Top. She understood that. And she appreciated his extra care.

_"How's Dalton?" _Patricia inquired. Jaz faintly wondered if the deputy director felt guilty herself. Or if she was just sorry that things had turned out this way.

"Got him on a transfusion," McG answered, continuing to work. "Should be enough until we can get him some real medical attention. Once we're done here, we'll head back to the chopper."

_"I'll have teams on standby when you land. Then once he's stable enough, we'll transport him back to base."_

McG nodded. "Understood."

At the sound of a soft groan, Jaz quickly turned to look at Adam, surprised to find his eyes open. He seemed to be having a hard time collecting his thoughts. Or being alert.

Two skills that Adam regularly excelled at.

McG was at his side in an instant, one hand taking Adam's spare one. The team leader's fingers could barely manage to tighten around McG's, and Jaz hated the sight of it.

"You're okay, Top. You're fine. We've gotchya," McG muttered, looking Adam directly in the eyes. "Don't move too much, okay? We've got a transfusion needle in your arm."  
Adam's head lolled toward Jaz to see who was on the other end of the line, his expression almost slack.

"Hey, Top," she greeted, attempting a smile even though she felt like curling up in a ball to deal with all this. He was barely there, she could see it in his eyes. She knew the fight was still behind the dull blue; it explained why he was awake at all. It seemed like something he'd fixate on. Staying awake to be there. For them.

Again.

"Just giving you some juice before we head back to the chopper," she mumbled, forcing a wider smile. Adam blinked slowly, foggy blue staring into her dark eyes.

"Thanks, Jaz," he whispered, almost too quietly to hear. She could tell he was running on fumes, though still fighting to be present. Always fighting to be present.

"We're fine, Top. Just fine. Take a break for once; we'll handle everything." She settled a comforting hand on his shoulder, channeling her authenticity through the contact.

He seemed to relax at her words, closing his eyes for a moment while he focused on breathing. She knew him too well. Jaz had always had sharp eyes, and like the rest of them, reading other people was an essential part of her job. It was how she knew that Amir cared deeply but quietly—by serving breakfast, by keeping a silent vigil, by staying level-headed when it mattered.

So she knew Adam. Understood that his team's wellbeing outweighed even his own. But as long as he knew everything was okay, he could take a moment to breathe. To rest.

And as she traced the weary lines in his face, a quiet kind of panic latched onto her ribcage. He looked so spent. Thoughts clawed at her mind, screaming for her attention. What if there was no coming back from this?

His pallor wasn't improving, and he was impossibly still. And there was so much _red_. She couldn't escape it. The smears of blood read like a map, testifying of what Adam had to go through just to buy him—them—a little more time.

Her eyes fell to his left, uninjured thigh. She could see plain evidence of where he'd latched onto the fabric with everything he had—the wrinkled bloodstain left behind. Her gaze moved to his abdomen, trailing the frantic smears of crimson from when he struggled to stem the blood flow.

He'd gone through more than he'd ever tell them.

And the thought hit her more than ever before.

Even after all this . . .

What if he didn't make it after all?


	4. Chapter 4

_Author's Note: And another one! There's some Amir-centric parts in this one because I do adore him so, and as a reminder, I'm not a medical professional. You're all swell, and I'm sorry you all had to endure the cancellation of this wonderful, wonderful show with these wonderful, wonderful characters. Enjoy. :)_

* * *

**Chapter Four**

Jaz was doing her best to power through all her fragile feelings. Her eyes were glued to Adam's, watching as he steadily faded away.

The blue eyes were open to sleepy slits, but his consciousness seemed to be elsewhere. It was like looking at a shell, with only a drop of Adam left in it.

"Top," McG muttered, patting Adam's face gently. The team leader didn't react. Like he'd checked out a while ago.

Amir cursed. Preach said nothing.

And Jaz simply tried to keep it together.

Staying calm, McG checked for a pulse. "Still alive. Pulse is still there." The medic's voice was taking on a hoarse quality, as if the stress was slowly stripping his vocal chords. He looked to Jaz. "Let's call the transfusion."

She wanted to protest but knew McG was right. She'd given quite a bit of blood, and in truth, Top needed professional medical attention as soon as he could get it.

He handed her some gauze before he pulled out the needle, and she quickly applied pressure while watching him do the same to Adam. Adam's eyes were starting to close more and more, finally allowing his body to catch up with his lack of awareness.

But the lifelessness behind the blue irises was unsettling. And it only doubled Jaz's fear.

"Preach, can you carry him?" McG asked, finished wrapping Adam's arm and already collecting his supplies to shove into his bag. Amir helped him, continually glancing back at Adam with worry.

Preach stepped forward, gingerly picking up the slack team leader and placing him over his broad shoulders. This all felt horribly hopeless, and for a fleeting moment, they wondered if this was all for nothing.

If not just to be there with Adam when he finally passed.

Without another word, the team moved toward the chopper, the other three surrounding Preach as he carried his precious cargo. It was silent. There wasn't a single chirp or rustle of leaves. It felt as if the world had paused in reverence.

And it unnerved Amir.

He was newer on the team, and admittedly, it had taken him some time to finally find a place among them. While the three other men had been kind and welcoming, Jaz had been cold and closed off, which sometimes contributed to the lingering awkwardness with his other teammates. But from the beginning, he knew Adam was on both their sides. And he was patient. He didn't force Jaz to make nice at first. He just helped Amir understand.

When Jaz had finally put down her defenses, Amir had an overwhelming feeling that Adam had something to do with it. But the team leader would never say. He wasn't the type to spill those kinds of details.

But what mattered the most was that, from the moment Amir took the job, Adam had accepted him. Trusted him. Considered him one of his own. Amir thought he'd have to prove himself to all of them.

In truth, he never had to prove himself to Adam.

And from the get-go, he was one of the lucky ones under Adam's protection. The team leader treated him like he did any other team member.

That meant the world to Amir.

In his short time on the team, he already had immense respect for the man at the helm.

And he couldn't imagine what it would mean if Adam was gone.

This job was dangerous. Survival was always slim, and casualties were a sadly expected part of the position. Commanding officers came and went, and there were so many honorable and good leaders to learn from.

But none of them were Top. And Amir wasn't sure the team could accept another CO like they had Adam. Jaz would have an especially hard time—he knew from experience.

He looked over at the sniper, seeing the cracks in her determination. In many ways, she was tougher than any of them. And he hated that she couldn't be as open about her more vulnerable emotions at times like these. He knew others had exploited those moments, just to prove that she wasn't as strong and capable as her male counterparts.

But damn it, she was. She shouldn't have to hold back the torrent of rage and pain and sorrow just to prove she was.

He breathed in deeply, trying to get a handle on his righteous anger. While he felt more like part of the team than ever, he still didn't feel comfortable enough to get close. He wished he could tell her she was safe with them. He wished she knew he was there—any of them were there—if she just wanted to vent and talk.

But all he knew how to do was make comforting meals and volunteer for menial tasks. Amir didn't know how to actually _tell _them that he . . . cared. With the wrongs he'd contributed to in his life, he didn't deserve the same care and comfort. But he wanted to be there for them.

He just wanted to take some of this pain away.

Amir looked to McG, seeing familiar pinches of urgency and terror. Later, the taller man will joke and hide it away, but that didn't change that it was still there. And Amir wished he could take some of it on for the medic. For Preach. For Jaz.

Adam meant a lot to him, but he hadn't known the team leader as long. He didn't have the same relationship as the rest of them did. His hurt couldn't compare to theirs. It couldn't.

As they approached the chopper, he trotted forward, climbing in to carefully pull Adam inside.

In all this, he'd do what he could to take on their burdens.

He could do that for Adam.

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Patricia watched the screen with her locket to her mouth. When she'd seen Adam for the first time through the body cams, it felt like her heart had plunged to the bottom of her stomach. Adam had a penchant for pushing through pain and injury. He didn't let either get in his way. When she'd later learned he'd been shot in the chestplate during their prison escape, she was admittedly surprised. That much force was sure to leave spectacular bruising and possibly a cracked rib or two, but he completed every task at his usual capacity and without complaint.

So if Adam was down and struggling to push onward, it was bad. And hell, if he didn't look absolutely awful. She tried not to think about it as she watched Amir pull his team leader into the chopper.

Patricia looked between Noah and Hannah, knowing how much they cared about the team as a whole. Like she did. Noah was shoving pork rinds in his mouth as he occasionally glanced away from the screen, and Hannah stared at Adam with an intensity even Patricia could admire. This was hard on all of them. And the worst part was that they'd done everything they could. There was nothing else they could do to increase Adam's chances.

They had to leave it up to fate.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

The thirty-minute ride in the chopper was quiet. The DC team didn't say a word, and the four of them didn't speak. All that remained was the loud hum of turning chopper blades.

McG had kept two fingers pressed to the inside of Adam's wrist, steadily monitoring his heart rate. They'd made it to their destination without incident, and they were slowly descending to the blacktop. A team of medical personnel waited below, ready to whisk Adam away as soon as the chopper touched the ground.

With one last long look at Adam's face, McG did a final bandage check before the medical team took over.

And once they landed, there was a flurry of humans and commands. People jumped aboard to move Adam's limp body to a gurney, and the team watched his limbs move loosely with every movement, reminding them just how little life was left in him.

It took everything they had to sit quietly and let others take over. They knew he was in good hands, but it was hard to let him out of their care.

Because what if he passed surrounded by strangers?

Still, all they could do was follow the medics and ride with them to the hospital. They were separated from Adam to ride in a different truck, left to grapple with the new panic of having him out of sight. After a quick report and a promise to keep Patricia updated, they switched off their comms and cams and let the quiet wash over them.

And once they made it to the hospital, they were left to wait in a plain, comfortless room. Just them and their thoughts.

Anxious, McG went in search of some coffee, and Preach left to pace through the hallways for a minute. Jaz parked herself in one of the uncomfortable chairs, folding her arms to hold in all her raw emotions.

Amir was left standing awkwardly on the edge of the waiting room, not sure what to do. He could be angry. He was good at that. His hands clenched into fists.

Then he looked at Jaz.

He could be angry later.

Unclenching his fists, he rubbed the palms of his hands against his thighs, slowly approaching her. He wanted to help, even if he wasn't comfortable with the direct approach. There was a good chance he'd fail spectacularly.

But this wasn't about him. He thought back to his earlier thoughts.

"How're you holding up?" he asked innocently, slowly taking a seat beside her. She looked at him, her eyes swirling with that tough wall he was all too familiar with.

"Fine," she answered curtly. He nodded, looking down at the floor.

"It's . . ." He stopped, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "It's okay to not be fine."

Jaz rolled her eyes. "Save the sap, Amir."

"I'm serious," he replied, his voice just above a whisper. "You don't have to pretend to be strong if you just want to . . ." He wasn't sure how to finish the sentence, so he left it incomplete. "I'm just saying . . . you don't have to hold back with us. We already respect you. A lot. We won't think any less of you if you . . . I don't know . . . want to shed a tear or two."

Her eyes snapped to him, sharp as she carefully examined him. He held her gaze, his expression honest and soft.

He couldn't do much for them, but he wanted to do something. This was that something.

Jaz looked to the ceiling, a quick well of tears forming in her eyes. "Damn it, Amir. I told myself I wasn't going to do this."

"You can, and you should," he urged. "You're only human, Jaz. You deserve to feel whatever you're feeling. To not hold back just to keep up appearances."

She shook her head, suddenly too overwhelmed to speak. Tears fell freely as she pressed a hand to her mouth. Amir wondered if she'd ever been given permission to be vulnerable in this job.

And that thought just . . . hurt.

As quickly as her defenses crumbled, they were rebuilding, going up brick by brick.

"Just tell me he's going to be fine," she mumbled, blinking rapidly to chase away the tears.

His eyes met hers. "He'll be fine."

A sad smile pulled at her lips. "Thought you CIA types were supposed to be better liars."

Amir looked down at his feet, clasping his hands together. "I guess it's harder if you're lying to a friend."

Jaz swiped at her eyes, quickly putting herself back together to restore her tough composure. He could tell she was embarrassed by her lapse in control, but he didn't regret encouraging it. "How are you holding up?" she asked. "You seem pretty calm about all this."

He breathed in deeply through his nose, clenching and unclenching his teeth. "I'm okay."

"Liar," Jaz replied. He looked at her questioningly. "I didn't peg you for a hypocrite."

He wasn't sure what to say, his brow dipping in confusion.

"Look, Amir. If I'm allowed to not be okay, you are too."

"I'm not—"

"You are."

Amir pursed his lips. "Well, I'm newer on the team. And you guys have known Top longer, so . . ."

Understanding dawned on Jaz's face, and her hard expression was quickly replaced with a sort of disgusted horror. "Amir, you're family." He frowned. "What the rest of us are feeling right now doesn't mean more than what you're feeling. Pain is pain. And you're allowed to be just as upset as we are, no matter how long you've known Top."

He didn't reply, unable to find the right words.

"Look," she began, heaving a sigh. "I wasn't . . . the greatest to you in the beginning. But it doesn't change what you are. You're a part of this team. And on this team, one person isn't more important than another. You should know that by now."

He hadn't. He could never shake the feeling that he was lesser. A stranger in their midst. The new guy.

"You mean a lot to us. All of us. Don't trick yourself into thinking you're alone."

He swallowed past the lump in his throat. "I'll try and remember that."

"You better," Jaz muttered, punching him lightly in the shoulder. He smirked, unable to help it. "You're good people, Amir. That's why Top picked you."

_That's why Top picked you_.

That statement hit him square in the chest. He'd lived his life trying to make up for his mistake. For failing his sister. He'd done questionable things to reach a final goal, and he'd built a false life out of skilled lying and carefully placed intimidation and venom.

Amir had resigned to the fact that he wasn't . . . good. He'd fight for good, but he'd take on the dark to accomplish it.

Yet Adam had seen something in him from the beginning. Something he couldn't see.

_That's why Top picked you_.

That phrase meant something he couldn't quite explain. That maybe he wasn't as hopeless as he thought he was.

Tears nipped at his eyes, and he hurriedly blinked them away.

Adam couldn't die.

Because Amir needed time to make it up to him.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Preach found McG kicking an old coffee machine. The air was emotionally charged, and Preach didn't have to ask to find out where all the misplaced frustration was coming from.

They were all feeling it, in some form or another.

"McG, I think you've taught it a lesson."

McG stopped, and all the energy just seemed to drain out of the soles of his feet and puddle on the floor. He looked spent. Weighed down. Lost.

"He's in good hands, doc," Preach reminded him, keeping his voice low and steady. "You did everything you could."

McG set a hand on top of the machine, shaking his head. "Doesn't feel like it."

Taking a few calm steps forward, Preach settled a warm hand on the medic's shoulder. "You did _everything_, Joseph. You can't control every piece. You made all the right choices."

"We should've been there earlier, Preach. We should've waited a few hours and then at least gone back to find—what we thought was—the body."

"No one could've known. Honestly, he should've died out there. By some lucky odds, he survived. And us not being there . . . that's not on you."

McG shook his head again. "We just assumed. We shouldn't have assumed."

"Take a step back and look at all the details, McG."

"I'm not doing any weird spiritual shit—"

Preach patted his shoulder. "We're not. Just take a step back and think back to where you were five hours ago."

McG obeyed, letting his mind travel back to when the four of them were mourning around the kitchen table.

"As they say, hindsight is twenty-twenty. When we were back at base, thinking Top was gone, we knew the odds. We knew what kind of fate awaited him if he didn't make it to exfil with us."

The medic said nothing, bowing his head while he leaned against the machine.

"There was no way we could've known. And Noah left Top's comm line open, and he still didn't know until this morning. We all did everything right. Top would say so himself."

McG huffed, rubbing at his eyes. Preach was right. Top would've been livid if they'd stayed behind or took any kind of risks to find his body. "Yeah, okay."

"How about we leave the coffee machine to lick its wounds and go back to the others."

McG nodded, fighting the burn in his eyes.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"No coffee?" Amir asked, watching the other two men enter the room.

"Machine's broken," McG muttered, avoiding Amir's eyes as he struggled to hold back his own emotions. He took a seat, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes. Preach sat beside him, quickly taking stock of his other two teammates. He was unsurprised to see their red-rimmed eyes.

They'd been better.

"We thought Top was dead," McG stated plainly, letting his hands fall to rest on his knees. "We sat on that all night. _All night_. And then he was miraculously alive." He paused, looking directly at Amir. "But is _this_ . . . is _this _really better?"

It wasn't. They all knew that.

"Did you see his eyes?" Jaz asked staring at the center of the floor. McG shifted uncomfortably in his seat, suddenly unsure of where to look. She continued, "It was like he wasn't really there. He was so out of it." She looked up at McG. "Could he really survive this?"

The medic shrugged. "I don't . . . I don't know. I wish I did."

No one said a word, all of them fearing the worst. They weren't as hopeful as they were when they'd left their base that morning. But they still held on to the little hope they had left, clinging to it like a lifeline.

If only for something to hold onto.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

It had been hours. McG had dissolved into an empty stare, while Preach waited patiently with his usual faith and strength. Amir had paced off and on to burn nervous energy. And Jaz had started tracing the lines in the flooring with her eyes while she kept her arms folded.

Near tears came and went, and sighs regularly echoed across the room. At one point, Amir had wandered off to find food and came back with sandwiches. McG had refused at first while the others ate, but Amir quietly convinced him to eat something. To take care of himself.

And then it was back to waiting.

And waiting.

Footsteps quietly echoed down the hall, and the team perked up at the sound. A woman in scrubs approached them with a clipboard in hand, and they realized . . . _this is it._

That desperation to hear something, _anything_, quickly turned to terror. For a moment, they wondered if this was the end.

Before she'd even stopped walking, she offered them a smile and quickly reported, "He's doing fine."

They stopped breathing.

She held one hand up in a placating gesture and pulled a chair over to face all of them before she sat down. "He lost a lot of blood, but your transfusion helped, and we pushed another bag. An infection's developed, but we've already got him on antibiotics and we don't foresee any complications. The wounds were through and through and nothing vital was hit, so closing them up was pretty straightforward. It's going to take him some time to recover from the blood loss and infection, but he should pull through just fine."

The four of them stared at her in shocked silence for a few seconds, still processing. After hours of wondering if this was it, they were expecting complications at least.

And it took a minute for their minds to catch up.

"Thank you," Preach finally said, offering her an unsure smile.

Her own smile widened. "Whenever you're ready, you're welcome to see him. Room 106. And of course, feel free to stay—just let us know if you need anything for the long term."

"Thank you," Preach repeated, nodding. "We really appreciate it."

"Of course." She stood, putting the chair back in place before leaving with a small upturn of her lips.

Jaz stared at the wall of the hallway, still frozen in place. "So . . . he's going to be okay?"

The news sunk in, and a collective wave of relief crashed over them. McG smiled, and Preach looked to the ceiling in gratitude.

Standing, McG shook his head, still grinning. "I don't know about you guys, but I'm going to make sure the poor sap's doing as well as they say."

Not wasting a moment, the other three moved to follow, eager to see for themselves.


	5. Chapter 5

_Author's Note: Hello, hello! I just want to say, thank you so, so much for your kind reviews. I really appreciate folks taking the time to leave one, and I am just overjoyed when folks point out what they liked most or what they feel I've done well. You're all gems and fabulous humans._

_I admit, I always struggle with recovery in these fics, so I did struggle with this chapter. I hope I did it justice and that the characters aren't too OOC. The fic's not over yet, but it's winding down. Thanks for sticking around. :)_

* * *

**Chapter Five**

Adam looked a lot better.

While he was still pale, he wasn't quite so gray, and the medical team had cleaned all the blood off his face and hair. He was starting to look more like himself, though not quite there.

"This whole thing has shaved at least ten years off my life," Jaz muttered, staring down at the blond. She felt better seeing him with a little pink to his skin. But she wouldn't be right until she saw Adam—the familiar spark—in his azure eyes.

"I'll be a lot happier when we're back at base," McG huffed, looking at the monitor to review Adam's vitals.

"I'm just happy he's still here," Amir remarked, dropping wearily into a chair.

Preach stayed quiet, looking at Adam, transfixed. He worried about the man on a regular basis, watching him throw himself into danger and poor self-care for his team. And knowing Adam had no one who cared about him back in the states hurt all that much more. The team leader openly befriended anyone who needed an ally. And yet, his support system was surprisingly small.

Only because he convinced everyone else that he didn't need one.

With a huff, Preach found his own seat, settling in for a slow wait. However long it took Adam to wake up, he'd be here. They'd all be here.

"I wonder what it was like out there," Amir said quietly, his eyes sorrowful. "Being alone."

Preach shifted in his seat, taking a deep breath. He'd thought about it himself, but he also knew Adam was an unusual breed. Built to be a soldier. To be a leader. "Honestly, I think he was still more worried about us."

The other three looked at him, confused.

Preach continued. "Adam's prepared to die at any given moment. It's part of the job, and he knows what he signed up for. He's not afraid to die. Even alone. But he doesn't want to let us down."

A hush fell over the room. Once Preach said it, they realized they already knew. Adam hadn't fought so hard to live for himself. He did it for them.

The selfless, stubborn bastard.

Worn out by the realization, Jaz and McG settled into their own chairs. No one dared disrupt the silence. Instead, they allowed a moment of reverence for everything Adam did for them. And would do.

And then they waited.

The four of them sat patiently through the night and into the early hours of the morning. Each only slept a half hour at a time, worried they'd miss Adam's waking moment. McG kept a steady eye on Adam's temperature, staring at the monitor and pressing a hand against his CO's neck to double-check. The fever had settled in, a rosy color bleeding into Adam's cheeks. It was under control, but it didn't stop McG from hovering at every moment.

And as the hours passed by, most of them tried to avoid thinking about Adam lying prone in the brush, bleeding away bit by bit. Not Preach. He forced himself to face it. To take it head on. He let every image and every thought invade his mind. It hurt. But he'd give it the attention it deserved. Just to understand what Adam had experienced out there. Alone.

Nurses regularly came in to check on Adam, and none of them minded the team. They'd dealt with it before. Teams like theirs that were determined to be close at all times. And with every visit, the nurses would offer kind smiles.

Still, the team waited. Both patiently and impatiently.

It was sometime in the early morning when blue eyes cracked open.

McG was first to notice.

"Top?" He crept out of his chair, moving closer to the blond.

Adam's brow pushed downward and he closed his eyes, trying to get his bearings. The rest of the team gathered around him, waiting with bated breath. His eyes opened again, and he squinted at the ceiling.

He was awake. He was finally awake.

"Where am I?"

His voice was nearly a whisper, raspy and grated.

"The hospital. On a base a few hours' out from ours," Jaz answered, smiling a little. "You're looking a lot better."

He frowned. "Cold."

"That'd be the fever," McG replied, glancing back at the monitor. "Should pass soon enough. Doc says everything's looking normal. Might be able to get back to base in a couple days." The team leader didn't say anything, struggling to be present.

On the other side of the bed, Jaz anxiously stared at Adam's eyes, waiting. She watched him blink slowly, still trying to get a handle on the world around him. All she wanted was to see the familiar, spirited ember behind those irises. And with a sinking heart, she realized it might take some time before she'd see it again.

He'd only just woken up after all. And in the fog of fever, he still wasn't all there.

Swallowing her disappointment, she took his hand, offering what support she could. His fingers tightened around hers automatically, and her breath caught in her throat. She thought back to when they couldn't even curl around McG's hand.

Maybe there wasn't that lively spark she was looking for. But this was enough for now. She tightened her hold.

"Everyone okay?" Adam whispered.

Amir rolled his eyes as the others let out a huff of laughter and shook their heads.

"We're fine, Top. Let's worry about you," McG gently reprimanded, pressing his hand against Adam's neck for the millionth time to check his temperature. Part of it was to check his temperature. The other was just to remind McG that the team leader was really alive.

Adam's eyes drifted closed again, and he struggled to swallow past his dry throat. He was still half asleep, teetering on the edge of consciousness. "S'rry I didn't w'ke up sooner."

There was a pause of confusion. With the fever and overwhelming exhaustion, they knew Adam wasn't quite himself. But they couldn't understand why he'd apologize for something out of his control.

"What are you talking about, Adam?" Preach asked quietly.

"Y'thought I w's dead. Should've wok'n up sooner. S'rry I put y'through that." Adam's hoarse words slurred more the longer he talked, and he was fading quickly.

And yet, everyone stood silent and still, processing his apology.

How long had he thought about that? Even now, in a fever-induced haze, it was at the forefront of his mind. And it wasn't even his fault.

"You have nothing to apologize for," Amir replied firmly, resting a comforting hand on Adam's shoulder. "We're just happy to have you back. Focus on that and get better."

Adam didn't respond as he gracefully slipped unconscious, leaving the four of them both heartbroken and relieved.

At least he was the same old Top in some ways. But it'd be better once he's regained his strength and, with it, his commanding presence.

McG wearily patted Adam's shoulder, and the four of them tiredly went back to waiting.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Adam's fever broke sometime in the late morning. Jaz had volunteered to mop the sweat off his face and neck, eager to do something to help. So in the warm light of the rising sun, she softly pressed a clean cloth to his skin, blotting lightly with a respectful diligence. Amir and McG had disappeared to find some food, and Preach stepped out to update Patricia on Adam's progress.

So it was just her. And that was fine.

She mopped beads of sweat from his forehead, focused on her task. And then stopped suddenly, seeing something from the corner of her eye. She shifted her gaze to the blond's face, sure she'd seen movement.

Then Adam frowned, his guise pinching in discomfort.

Startled, she pulled the cloth away, watching his face as he slowly came back to consciousness.

"Top?" she asked, frozen. Blue irises peered through sleepy slits as he pushed toward awareness. Quickly gaining strength, he turned his head a little to look at her, though still bogged down by lingering hints of lethargy.

And it was there. That fire behind intelligent eyes. It was hampered a little by pain and weariness, but it was there.

Jaz smiled, tears nipping at her eyes.

"Jaz?"

"Hey, Top."

For a moment, she simply watched his gaze, overjoyed to find it as full of life as it should be. As strong as it should be.

"You okay?" he asked, watching her.

She couldn't hold back the laugh that escaped her. Maybe it was because she was just so relieved. Maybe it was a little bit of sleep-deprived madness.

"I'm okay," she replied in her low, breathy voice, blinking back moisture as she dabbed sweat from his neck. "You're fever broke, and everything's looking good. They're talking about transporting you back to base soon."

He continued to examine her face, silent. Searching for any clues that she might be hurting. Or struggling.

But he wouldn't find it. She was sure of it. Because she felt better than she had in days.

"For a minute, we didn't think you'd make it," she continued, speaking casually while sponging sweat off his cheeks. His forehead. And surprisingly, he let her. Maybe he was too distracted to notice. "You were pretty out of it by the time we got you back to the chopper. Should've seen your color. It was _bad,_ Top."

His brow dipped in concern. "You sure you're okay?"

"I am now," she answered simply. She pulled the cloth away and sat back in her seat. "But it has been a rough couple of days."

For a moment, she thought she saw guilt flash across his face. She wondered if he remembered his feverish apology in the early morning. But as soon as the guilt was there, it was gone. Hidden away.

"What did happen out there?" Jaz questioned, the corners of her mouth dipping downward. "One moment, you were behind us, and then the next, you weren't."

He brought a weak hand to his face, rubbing at his eyes as he collected his thoughts. He was becoming more aware with every passing minute, rapidly returning to his old self. "Well, it happened so fast." He paused, thinking back. "I . . . I took the hit to the abdomen first. Then the leg. And at first, I didn't even realize I'd been hit." There was a beat of silence as he focused. Remembered. "When I finally did, I just remember falling. Not sure why." His words were slow, like he was working through the details. "And somehow, I was aware enough to roll into those bushes to hide." He stopped again, staring down at his hands. "To be honest, I didn't think I was going to make it. I thought they'd find me and eliminate me immediately. I'm not sure . . . I'm not entirely sure how they missed me."

Jaz watched him as he spoke, noting the way his face darkened. She wondered if he'd actually had time to internalize what had happened to him. He was always so focused on the task at hand. Emotions and distracting thoughts were often pushed aside to make room for more important things. Maybe that's what happened here.

But in an instant, he blinked away the darkness, shoving it down and away from Jaz's eyes.

The sad part was that she'd seen the same thing far too many times before.

He attempted to move a little, but stopped as he settled a hand on his abdomen, hissing painfully.

"Are you in pain? Do you need some meds?" she asked quickly.

He waved her away. "No. No, I'm fine. Just . . . getting reacquainted." Sweat beaded on his forehead, and while he looked much better than he had on the chopper, there were still dark circles of exhaustion under his eyes.

Jaz settled a hand on his shoulder, holding up the cloth. "Here." Realizing what she was going to do, he hesitated, trying to decide if he should protest or not. Instead, he sat there stiffly and quietly.

Taking that as permission, she gently patted at his face, blotting off the sweat. "I know you don't really like to be taken care of, but you're going to have to get used to it."

"If you say so," he mumbled, a hint of bitterness in his voice.

"Top?"

McG stood in the doorway, Amir just behind him.

Adam offered a small wave. "Hey, McG. Amir."

The medic dropped a bag of food on a nearby table before heading straight to Adam's free side. "How are you feeling? Are you in pain?" He felt for a temperature and manually checked Adam's pulse.

Adam resisted the urge to slap the medic's hand away. "I'm fine. Really."

"Well, forgive me if I don't believe you," McG retorted, standing back with his hands on his hips. Jaz smirked. He did have a point.

"It's nice to see you awake," Amir commented casually as he handed Jaz some food. But they all knew it was an act to cover what he was really feeling. He was a master of deception after all. "We were starting to get anxious."

"Amir was anxious. I was perfectly cool and collected," said McG, his smile wide.

Jaz scoffed. "Yeah, because checking Top's vitals every thirty seconds is 'cool and collected.'"

"Everyone's a critic," McG mumbled, sparing a glance at the monitor.

"Well, look who's finally awake," rumbled a low voice.

Adam looked up to see Preach entering the room, that calm smirk on his face.

"Preach," Adam acknowledged, offering a nod.

The larger man moved to Adam's side to give him a friendly squeeze on his shoulder. "Welcome back."

Adam smiled with a shake of his head. "Thanks, Preach."

"I just updated the deputy director and spoke to the nurses. If everything goes smoothly, we should have you out of here and back to base tomorrow," the older man reported.

Adam's smile grew wider. "Glad to hear it."

Overjoyed and feeling lighter than they had for days, the team settled down to eat, apologizing for munching on their meals in front of Adam. As expected, he didn't mind.

And for a moment, they just enjoyed things as they were, comfortably striking up a conversation. Seeing Adam act more like himself was comforting, and the team found themselves more relaxed, interrupted only by Adam's occasional pained grunt or wince.

As the afternoon rolled in, Adam drifted back to sleep.

And that was okay. Adam finally looked more alive than dead, and his slumber was less desperate healing than steady recovery. For once, the team could get a little sleep of their own.

Because Adam would still be there when they woke up.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"You ready, Top?" McG stood by patiently, holding crutches while he kept an eye on the team leader.

Adam sat on the edge of the bed, dressed in sweats and a t-shirt that hung loosely on his thinning frame. He'd lost a little weight during his hospital stay, and it showed.

He was more than eager to get out of there and back to familiarity but still struggled being upright. He swayed lightly, a bit dizzy and in pain.

Still, he was determined. He wasn't staying here another minute.

"Yeah, I'm ready," he muttered, reaching for the crutches. McG hesitantly relinquished them, looking concerned.

"You sure you're okay enough to travel?"

"I'm fine, McG."

The other three watched on, skeptical in their own right. But when it came to hospitals, Adam was not one to stay if he didn't have to.

Adam gingerly stood up, using the crutches for support. Pain shot from his abdomen and leg, bolting through his nerves. And for a moment, all he could hear was white noise as his vision grayed out for a minute. Then he was back, and he felt supportive hands on his arms and shoulders.

"You good?"

Adam looked to McG, too proud to admit he'd nearly passed out. He refused to be wheeled around in a wheelchair, and he wasn't about to give the medic a reason to force him.

"Yeah, I'm okay," he answered quietly, his wounds throbbing tirelessly.

McG looked unsure, but he knew Adam well enough to not push it. "Alright, let's get out of here."

The trek out of the hospital was slow and steady, and Adam had to stop several times to rest and catch his breath. With each pause, the team worried more, watching their team leader closely. He was growing paler with every passing yard, but still pressed on if only to prove to himself that he could do it.

Once they were all settled in the jeep to drive to the landing strip, they all breathed a little easier.

Adam was tired enough to allow Preach and Amir to help him onto the plane, and by the time he was settled in a seat, he was exhausted and nearly colorless.

"How about you take it easy for a while?" Amir prodded, sitting beside Adam. Adam nodded wearily with his eyes closed and head down. Of course Top was the type to push too hard too fast. It would be odd if he wasn't.

Amir looked down at Adam's hands, stilling when he saw the slight tremble in the other man's fingers. He remembered the same tremble from just a couple days ago. The one begging for relief.

The smaller man looked up at Adam, watching the blond breathe shakily as he recovered. A pang of worry bounced through the ex-spy's chest. He dropped a hand to Adam's shoulder, silently offering his support.

"Just breathe, Top," he muttered quietly. "Don't overdo it."

Adam did as he was told, inhaling deeply as he worked to piece himself back together. The others watched, their lips pursed in concern.

By the time Adam got a handle on his pain, they were in the air and on their way. And only a half an hour into the flight, his head started to bob sleepily, his body begging for rest. Eventually he fell asleep, his head hanging forward while the seat straps kept him upright. The seats on most military planes weren't exactly comfortable, and they were often worse to sleep in.

And truly, it was awful to see him so tired. It reminded them that, not so long ago, they'd found Adam in deplorable shape. It was easy to forget that it was only a couple days ago. Adam was good at working through pain and exhaustion, and he could even keep up an engaging, natural conversation.

But that didn't mean he wasn't hurting or completely worn out by his healing body.

Not wanting to add a sore neck to Adam's list of grievances, Amir gently repositioned Adam so his head leaned back against the plane wall. The ex-spy tucked a small blanket between Adam's shoulder and head, attempting to make the team leader as comfortable as possible.

And Adam slept all the way to base.

It was painful to wake him up.

Coming to, he was groggy and disoriented. He was so out of it that he didn't protest Amir and Preach helping him out of the plane to the jeep. And from the jeep to their home away from home.

It wasn't until he was settled in his own bunk that they could all indulge in a sigh of relief.

Now the hard part was over. All that was left was a slow and steady recovery.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Adam slept well into the next morning. It made the team so antsy that they had to send McG in to make sure he was really okay.

He was.

The team was gathered around the kitchen table eating a late breakfast when they heard the familiar click of crutches down the hallway.

McG was out of his seat in an instant, moving to stand at the end of the corridor.

"I'm fine, McGuire," Adam called gruffly as he continued making his way to the kitchen.

The medic held up his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay. Just making sure."

No one said a word, unsure of what to say. The blond finally made it to the common area, hair messy and eyes worn and tired. In silence, he gingerly lowered himself into a chair, setting his crutches aside as he stretched out his injured leg. "Good morning," he mumbled wearily, his voice gravelly.

"Morning, Top," Jaz replied, leaning forward with a smile. "How'd you sleep?"

"Fine."

"I made shakshuka. Want any?" Amir asked, gaze soft and sympathetic.

Adam shook his head, swallowing thickly. They all frowned, tracing his now slimmer figure.

"Want to eat something else?" Amir offered quietly. Adam shook his head again and dropped his gaze to the floor. He knew they'd worry. But he didn't think he could keep anything down. He felt absolutely awful.

"Think you could drink some water?" McG asked, eyeing the team leader worriedly.

Adam shrugged. "I can try."

It was strange to see Adam so miserable. But they couldn't blame him.

Adam turned his head to look at the laptop on the other table. It was several meters away, and they could all see the dread and exhaustion shining shamelessly in his gaze.

"I've got it," Amir volunteered, moving to collect the laptop and put it in front of him. McG set a cold bottle of water next to it, watching the team leader wince as he leaned forward to turn the computer on.

"Sure you should be working, Top?" inquired McG, looking concerned.

Adam ran a hand through his messy hair. "Gotta call the deputy director."

Preach's brow creased in confusion. "We can update her."

The team leader shook his head. "No, it's okay. It's not like I have anything better to do, and she'll probably want to see my face."

They couldn't argue with that. Patricia and Adam shared a friendship that had heavy overtones of professionalism. But it was still a friendship, and they knew she worried.

To give him some privacy, they wished him luck and wandered off to the cage to handle some regular gear maintenance. But they were still within earshot.

Adam set up the call, ringing in as he settled further into his chair. She answered on the second ring, her face popping up on the screen.

_"Dalton. Didn't expect to see you so soon." _There was a hint of surprise in her voice, but her expression remained trained and composed.

Adam smiled wearily. "Thought I'd give you call myself just to say I'm taking a few weeks off."

_"As expected. How are you feeling?" _Her tone was as controlled as ever, but so much was packed into the one, little question: _You don't look well. You've lost weight. You look tired._

"I'm fine." He'd been saying that a lot lately. "Just . . . recovering from the trip yesterday."

_"Don't push yourself. I need the leader of my team in top condition."_

A smirk pulled at his lips. He knew it; she was worried. "Understood."

_"Thanks for calling, Dalton. It's nice to see you."_

"Always a pleasure, Deputy Director Campbell."

Adam ended the call, left even more exhausted after the brief exchange. He should probably be resting, but he couldn't stay laid up in bed all day.

And he wanted to be with his team.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Patricia closed her laptop, taking a moment to herself. Adam looked more than a little worse for wear. His hair and beard were unkempt, there were dark smudges under his red-rimmed eyes, and he'd lost a few pounds.

But he was alive. And he was recovering.

Patricia gracefully blinked back the tears of relief. She'd been alarmed by the initial image of Adam; she hadn't expected him to look so worn down. But recovery wasn't always a smooth journey; she just had to remember that.

Still, she'd check with Preach regularly just to make sure the team leader was doing all right.

Patricia pressed her locket to her lips.

For another day, the world kept a good soldier.

A good man.


	6. Chapter 6

_Author's Note: Welp, this is the end of it. I admit I had to rewrite this chapter several times before I was satisfied with it, so I hope it doesn't disappoint._

_Also, happy late Mother's Day to all the moms out there, including the moms-to-be, the moms who don't yet have children of their own, those who mother others' children, and the moms with children in heaven. You are loved; you are appreciated. I see your efforts and your hardships, and I'm grateful for you and your strength every day. I know Mother's Day isn't always a happy day for women, but no matter who you are and how you mother or are a mother, you are valued. I see you, and so many others see you. Thanks for being you._

* * *

**Chapter Six**

"Top, you should get some sleep."

Adam felt a hand on his shoulder as he snapped out of his weary reverie. He looked up at McG, slowly coming back to his senses. "What?"

"Bed. You should be in it," McG simplified tersely. Worriedly.

"I second that," Jaz interjected, in the middle of taking apart her pistol for routine maintenance.

Amir raised his hand a little. "Count me in too."

"And me," Preach added.

McG let out a satisfied sigh as Adam continued to fight through his confusion. "Well, Top. Looks like we're all in agreement. So get to bed. Now."

"No, I'm fine here."

"And you'll be better resting in bed," McG pressed. "Let's go, buddy." He started to help Adam up from the table when Preach quickly stepped in to take over.

"I'll help him, McG."

The medic stepped aside without complaint, offering Preach a grateful smile. Once Preach got Adam on his feet and firmly supported by crutches, the two of them slowly made their way down the hallway toward Adam's room.

"I'm really fine, Preach," the team leader muttered, just out of earshot of his other subordinates.

The older man leveled a look at the blond, a small smile on his lips. "I'm sure you are."

Without another word, Adam carefully made his way through the door of his room, maneuvering the crutches with a practiced ease—though hampered by his injuries.

Once they were in, Preach closed the door behind him.

Adam looked at him questioningly.

For a minute, they just stared at each other, Adam's gaze confused, Preach's wise and firm.

Preach took a deep breath, relaxing his posture as he regarded his injured team leader.

"Top, they're okay. We're all okay."

His voice was low. Quiet. Reverent.

Adam didn't say a word.

"You don't have to push yourself. Take time. Rest. Recover. We're okay. We're just worried about you."

The blond dropped his eyes to the floor, clenching his jaw. "But not really, right?"

Preach's brows dipped in puzzlement.

"Jaz can't look at me without that fear in her eyes. The same look she had after she was captured. And McG feels guilty. I just know it. I've seen it. Amir's angry. And you have that look like you're trying to make peace with all this. Trying to force being okay with everything."

Preach's lips parted in surprise. He knew Adam had an eye for things like this. It was part of what made him a great team leader; he knew when to be there and how to be there for all of them.

But Preach hadn't thought he'd see all that. Not now. Not when he was still at half capacity.

"So you're not okay. None of you are," Adam muttered, growing paler. Exhausted, he slowly lowered himself to his bunk, setting his crutches aside. "I'm the one who did this, so I'm the one that needs to fix it."

"Adam," Preach sighed, moving closer to the blond. He watched the team leader for a moment before taking a seat next to him on the bunk. "This isn't your fault. You don't have to fix anything." Preach paused, eyes lingering on the dark circles under Adam's eyes. "I get that you want to help. But you have to know better than anybody that you can't do that right now. We're . . . afraid, guilty, angry . . . unsettled because this happened to _you_. Because _you _aren't okay."

Adam looked at him, absolutely drained.

Preach let out another huff. "Before _we_ can heal, _you _have to heal. So for us, take care of yourself. Get some rest. Take it easy. Let us help. And when you're feeling more like yourself—when we finally know you're not going to get in your own way—then maybe you can help us with our wounds." The older man gently dropped a hand on the younger man's shoulder. "But I have a feeling that there won't be much to fix by then."

Adam's shoulders drooped a little in defeat, and his gaze tiredly found the floor.

"I know you're not one for waiting," Preach continued. "But this time, you'll just have to let time do its work. We'll still be here."

The blond breathed in deeply through his nose. "Dammit, Preach. Why do you always have to be right?"

Preach smirked, giving Adam another pat on the shoulder. "Get some sleep, Top."

With that, he stood, making his way to the door. And as he pushed the door open, he smiled.

He had a feeling things would turn out fine.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Adam slept the rest of the day away and into the night. He didn't wake until after midnight, after everyone else had gone to bed.

He laid in his bunk, staring up at the moonlit ceiling. Silver reflected off tarnished metal, the soft wash of light chasing away the shadows.

He could go back to sleep. His limbs felt heavy and sore, and his injuries still throbbed timidly. But he was thirsty.

Mustering what little strength he could find, he slowly sat up, gritting his teeth against the surge of pain in his side. He paused, staring at his feet.

Preach was right. He wasn't in good shape.

Adam had a habit of pushing aside his own poor health. To avoid facing it. To tell a convincible lie.

To keep the people he cared about from worrying.

Because there was a time he didn't have the luxury of being open and free about things like this. So he'd gotten very good at hiding it.

It was odd to think that these same habits now did more harm than good. The idea was different. Unfamiliar.

But for his team, he could try to change.

At least for a little while.

Still, he could manage getting some water by himself. It was the dead of night, after all.

Flexing his jaw, he moved to plant his feet on the floor. It took longer than it should have. Every part of his body protested. But it was just a trip to the kitchen.

He could manage it.

Taking hold of his crutches, he pushed himself to his feet. Normally, he'd try to look a little more presentable, even in the middle of the night, but right then, he didn't care. He knew he looked terrible. He also knew there wasn't much he could do to make it better.

Tightening his hold on his crutches, he set out on his small trek, staying as quiet as possible. But every tap of his crutches seemed to echo down the hallway. He grimaced at the noise, attempting to minimize it as much as possible. No luck.

After a few agonizing minutes, he finally made it to the kitchen and headed toward the fridge.

Then someone slipped by him.

Jaz.

Why hadn't heard her coming?

"Thirsty, Top?" Jaz asked, looking at him as she opened the fridge. The glint of fear was still in her eyes, and it made his heart sink just a little.

He thought about what Preach had said. And smothered the urge to ask her how she was.

"Uh . . . yeah," he croaked, still surprised by her sudden appearance. "I didn't wake you, did I?"

"Nah, you didn't," she replied, grabbing a bottle of water as he gingerly lowered himself into a seat at the table. "What are you doing up anyway, Top?"

"I was actually just getting some water." She set the water in front of him, looking pleased with herself.

"So my timing was perfect, huh?"

He smiled. Weakly. Still thrown by the caretaker role reversal.

Jaz sat at the table. "Did you get some sleep?"

"Uh, yeah." He stretched his injured leg a little, then regretted it. "Fell asleep almost immediately."

"You've been sleeping that whole time?" she asked with a grin, a laugh in her voice. "Geez, Top."

His smile widened. "Yeah, guess I was more tired than I thought." He saw her glance at the unopened water bottle. And he could see the worry behind her expression.

In response, he grabbed the bottle, unscrewing the cap to take a long drink. She looked relieved. So maybe Preach knew a thing or two.

A door opened in the background, and Jaz perked up a little. Adam looked over his shoulder.

Amir was casually walking into the kitchen, fully awake and alert. "Well, look who's up." The shorter man smiled as he patted Adam's shoulder, then moseyed over to their food stores. "Hungry, Top? I was thinking of making soup."

Adam frowned.

"At," he looked at his watch, "almost two in the morning?"

"Can't help when the cravings strike," Jaz explained, acting as if it was perfectly normal. She looked to Amir. "I think I could use some soup."

Adam narrowed his eyes. This felt strangely like they were working together.

Amir held up a can of broth. "Soup it is."

Suspicious, Adam took another swig of his water. He didn't miss Jaz's watchful eyes.

Another door opened, and Adam didn't even bother to look to see who it was this time.

"Partying without me?"

McG. Of course.

"Amir's making soup. Want some?" Jaz asked nonchalantly.

McG grinned broadly, dropping into a chair. "Sounds good. I'm in."

Adam vaguely wondered if they'd planned this. He sipped at his water.

The last door opened, and Adam frowned. This did feel rather planned. Had they slept at all?

"Yo, Preach. Soup. Want some?" McG offered. Amir was already working over the stove, gathering ingredients and staring into the broth as he put a recipe together in his head.

Preach nodded, finding his own seat. "I could use a bite."

Adam's eyes caught Preach's, and Preach seemed to dare him to say something about all this.

The team leader couldn't pretend he didn't know what this was. It wasn't exactly an unfamiliar practice for the team. Whenever any of them were hurt or struggling, the rest would silently offer their support and care—without making it obvious that's what they were doing. For a group of proud control freaks, it worked.

But Adam had never thought he'd be on the receiving end.

And yet, being here, tossed into a completely abnormal pocket of almost flawless normalcy, he could see it from a totally new perspective.

It was . . . nice.

He took another gulp of water.

From this end, he could see how beneficial it was for the rest of them. To be able to help and care for him . . . he didn't realize how much they needed it. And he suddenly felt overwhelmingly selfish for refusing their help before.

So for once, he let himself be cared for. It felt alien and wrong in some ways, but he put up with it. He let Amir make him soup under the disguise of a late-night craving. He let the rest of the team pretend they were hungry for his benefit. He let them all pretend this was just another casual team moment that happened to be in the middle of the night.

And Adam didn't mind it.

After a while, he relaxed enough to even let out a chuckle.

And they all stayed, wasting the hours away with him. He had a feeling they'd move when he moved. And somehow, his water was always replenished without him asking.

For a minute, he allowed a moment of pride. He'd built a good team. They were everything they needed. They made this job better. Their light balanced out the darkness.

He couldn't have had better luck. These people were the best of the best.

They inspired him to be better.

And he wouldn't have it any other way.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"Where're you going, Top?"

Adam readjusted his crutches, looking back at Jaz. "Just thought I'd go for a walk. Feel like I haven't seen the sun enough lately."

"I'll go with you," she volunteered, shoving her hands in her pockets as she made her way to his side.

He smiled. "If you insist."

"Can't let your weak-ass get stranded somewhere when you tire out." She grinned at her own teasing, nudging him a little with her elbow.

"Glad you have my back," he laughed. She moved the plastic flaps aside for him as he hobbled outside, and she followed close behind.

He looked a lot better. The weary smudges under his eyes were fading, and he was starting to look more like himself. His frame was filling out again. He'd trimmed his beard. He was eating a little more every day.

But she couldn't shake the feeling that she could lose him at any second. That if she let down her guard for even a minute, he'd be gone.

Adam started his lap around the building, grimacing a little with the movement, but not enough to be concerning. And yet, it was hard for her to push it aside.

"How're you feeling?" she asked casually, easily keeping up with his slow pace.

"Better," he replied, glancing at her with those sharp eyes. It brought some comfort to see the real Top behind his gaze. The weariness had ebbed away, and he was pretty much back to his old self. "Hurts less every day."

Adam watched her for a moment. Overall, the team was less on edge than they used to be. But he still saw all their troubling feelings. And in due time, he knew he'd find a way to put them to rest, like he always did.

But looking at Jaz, maybe he could start with her now.

"You know I'm okay, right?"

Her eyes went to his, and he thought he could see a flash of vulnerability in them.

"I'm healing fine. You didn't lose me. I'm still here."

She stopped walking. So did he.

A handful of emotions flashed across her face. Frustration, fear, sorrow, guilt. And true to her character, she hastily tried to smother them.

In that moment, Adam knew he had to dig deeper. It'd be hard for her, but he couldn't leave this like it was. Seeing all that on her face, he wondered if maybe he had let it sit too long.

"Jaz, you didn't leave me behind. You did exactly what you were supposed to."

It felt like the world stopped.

Nothing else mattered outside the two of them. He saw the fury in her eyes before it even manifested on her face. But she didn't say anything. Not at first.

Not until she trusted herself not to explode.

So the seconds ticked on in silence. Adam waited. He watched. He prepared himself.

Then she finally spoke.

"Yeah, maybe I did what I was supposed to," she said heatedly, her voice low. Dangerous. "But that doesn't mean I didn't leave you behind, Top."

Her tone said so much.

She'd been bottling more than he realized. Building pressure over hours. Over days. And he'd just unscrewed the cap.

"We left you there," she hissed. "You didn't _see _you when we got there, Top. You didn't see it."

For a minute, neither said a word. For a minute, they just stared at each other, trying to read the other's expression.  
"What didn't I see?" he asked quietly. Patiently. And he just listened, propped up by crutches in the blazing sun of the desert.

"You looked almost dead, Top. And honestly, if we'd taken any longer, you could've been." She pursed her lips, as if trying to hold it all back. "You were _gray_. And there was blood everywhere. We're a team. We're supposed to have each other's backs. And we didn't have _yours_."

Adam moved his crutches to face her directly, his eyes staring straight into hers. "You had my back. When I needed you guys, you came back. You got me out of there. Jaz, you _gave me your blood_."

Adam simply watched her, seeing the crack in her carefully constructed wall. Like all of them, she held herself at a higher standard.

And in her eyes, she'd not only failed. She failed _spectacularly_.

He moved closer to her, to look further into her gaze. "You didn't fail me. As soon as you heard, you were on a plane. _That's _what it means to have my back. You put everything aside to help me when I couldn't help myself. You did that_._ Jaz, _you did that_."

Her eyes didn't leave his. The knot loosened in her chest. It didn't go away.

But it felt better.

"And Jaz, I am _still _here. _You did not lose me_." He emphasized each word, peering straight into her gaze. "I'll tell you every day if I have to. Try and focus on what is, not what almost was."

He knew his words would only do so much. A pain and fear like that ran deep.

And really, it never went away.

But he'd be damned if he did nothing at all.

"Focus on today. Today, I'm here. Today, we're taking a walk. Safely. On base. We're healthy. We're okay."

After some hesitation, she nodded, and he stiffly pulled away from her, wincing as he maneuvered his crutches. It sparked a pang of worry in her chest, but it was different. Instead of seeing how he could've died, she saw how hard he'd fought to stay alive.

For them.

She'd seen it in the fiery blue depths of his eyes. She'd forgotten, and it felt like a breath of fresh air to be reminded just much he wanted to be there with his team.

It brought a strange comfort to know that he'd always fight to be there with them.

That he wouldn't leave without a fight.

"Now, if you can keep up, I say we continue with this walk," he said forcefully, readjusting his crutches as he looked ahead.

Surprised by his challenge, she let out an unexpected chuckle, raising her eyebrows. "Keep up? With you, old man? I think I can manage."

For the first time in days, she felt . . . lighter. She felt safe. Like she was allowed to be happy.

Seeing her expression soften, Adam smiled. He was on the mend. His team was taking care of him, and it was finally time to return the favor.

Then maybe they could heal together.

_**Fin.**_


End file.
